


Kissed

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-17
Updated: 2006-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruminations on the five people in the Fellowship whom Dom says Billy has kissed.  Wouldn't we all like to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissed

The first one happened less than twelve hours after I left Glasgow. I actually don't know how Dom knows about that one, but I reckon Orlando got pissed enough one night to tell the story. Anyway, it was nice enough, as snogs go. We both got trollied on champagne for my birthday, and we arrived in Singapore for our layover, and there was the loo, and, well, you know how these things go. Orlando's a nice kisser, but a little frantic—his hands didn't seem to know exactly where to go, and his tongue darted around like it had to get a taste of _every_ spot on and in my mouth, never stopping anywhere long enough to get a real reaction. It was a nice snog, and then we arrived in New Zealand, and sobered up, and it hasn't happened since.

The second, strangely enough, was Ian McKellen. Okay sure, there were pecks here and there, silly drunken grab-his-face-and-smack-one-on moments throughout the spring, but if I know Dom (and I do), those don't count. It was February, and I had only _known_ Ian for a few weeks, so of course I was still in awe of him. Somehow, we ended up along together on his doorstep; I think I was giving him a ride that week they were trying to arrange the rentals and everything. Anyway, there we were, and my cheeks were warm from the wine, and he said I was lovely, and gave me a nice, long kiss, right there on the doorstep. It was nice, comforting even, though not particularly exciting. I just relaxed and let him do it—after all, there's no shame in acting a teensy bit passive when being kissed by Sir Ian bloody McKellen—and then he kissed my cheek and wished me a pleasant evening, and in he went. I mentioned it to Dom two days later, and he spent the entire month trying to get a snog of his own. Elijah glared at him a lot that month. Ian just smirked and told Dom that he was barking up the wrong tree.

The third was Elijah. All hell broke loose after that one, and it was the first of the Fellowship Kisses ™ that Dominic Monaghan was actually present for. All of us hobbits plus Orlando were in Australia together, visiting Melbourne, and Dave Wenham went with us, and Miranda was there, and we were at this amazing night club in the city centre—huge place, lights all around, and this sexy techno music with a strong bass. Elijah was ridiculously excited, of course, and to this day I have no clue why he dragged _me_ out on the dance floor. Dom might have been getting a round at the time, but he was definitely not far away when Elijah, slightly tipsy, decided to throw his arms around my neck and bite at my bottom lip with his little pearly teeth and grind his hips in seductive circles against my crotch. I think my eyes rolled back in my head when he did that thing to my neck, but then I was being dragged off the floor by my ear, and shoved against the wall by a very angry Dom Monaghan. Fortunately, we got it worked out without any actual physical blows, and by the next day Dom and Elijah were an official couple. But I still don't think he's quite forgiven me for getting there first.

The fourth, of course, was Viggo. Contrary to what I said on the DVD commentary, said kiss did not make me feel sick at all, but instead rather dizzy, in a pleasant sort of a way. There were certainly tongues, yes, on both sides, and his body was all hot and hard up against mine, even underneath his formal King-wear, and for a few minutes I wondered if there might be something to that. Well, okay, honestly, for a few days. Viggo didn't act any differently, though, and eventually I managed to forget about it

When I got back to Scotland, though, I discovered that at least one other person _hadn't_ forgotten about it.

"Sean!! How are you, mate? Come in, have some brew—or I've got whisky…"

"Billy." Sean's voice was rough, and he nearly pushed me into my own flat. I wondered if maybe he'd already had a few too many, and why his eyes were flashing with anger, but I had little time to do much thinking as he pushed me down to my couch by my shoulders and stood over me, looking right bloody intimidating, half-kneeling on the sofa with one knee next to mine and the other foot still on the floor.

"Wha… what's wrong, Sean?" I asked, my voice shaking a bit. "Have you been drinking?"

"No. I've been on the train all evening. Tell me one thing, Billy, and I'll get back on that train and be home in the morning. But I have to know."

"Sean, what the hell are you on about?"

"Viggo. Did it mean anything?"

I stared at him. He looked about halfway between punching me and crying. My eyes narrowed. "Did _what_ mean anything?"

"The kiss!" he nearly yelled. "The bloody fucking kiss, on set, in front of God and everyone! Did it go any further?"

I gulped. Bean was _jealous?_ Bean wanted Viggo, didn't he? Oh, shite. I looked around me quickly, internalising the picture of the inside of my flat. I figured it might very well be the last thing I'd see.

"No," I said, my voice a little shaky. _Please don't kill me, please don't kill me..._ "It was just a joke." I decided that a lie by omission was appropriate, in this case. Sean didn't really _need_ to know about my brief curiosity on the matter. It was over, and _Viggo_ was just joking, anyway, and certainly not interested. That was all Beanie cared about, anyway.

"A _joke?_" He stared at me for a moment, incredulous, and then the laughter built in his chest, slowly, his eyes crinkling in that unique way that makes it no surprise that so many English women (and probably quite a few men) have had crushes on him at some point. He looked relieved, but then, strangely, his hand was on my hip, curling slightly to hold onto me, and I realised that it wasn't Viggo he wanted. And suddenly I felt fiercely possessive, for that laugh was _mine_, and his relief was for _me_, and it was my shoulder he was now resting his forehead on, my waist that he held, and my neck from whose scent he was breathing deeply.

"You smell good," he whispered, and my breath hitched, my heart tripping over a beat.

"You're so …warm," I replied, because it was the first thing that came to mind. He looked up from my shoulder and smiled.

"Jesus, Billy." His whisper was hot against my lips, and I couldn't help it. Consider me seduced. I grabbed him by the back of the head, leaned forward, and kissed him for all he was worth, and it was perfect.

Sean's large, strong hands drifted from my waist to the small of my back, pressing me carefully forward. He leaned more heavily on the one knee, half in my lap, and the tip of his tongue fluttered against the flat of mine. I moaned.

"Billy. Billy, Billy, Billy…" he murmured, pressing his open mouth to my neck, jaw, shoulder. His hands snuck up under the front of my shirt now between us, popping buttons along the way, palms flattening against my chest. His index finger brushed my nipple, and I remembered the first time I saw _Lady Chatterly_ on the BBC and came in my jeans watching Sean rip Joely's garter and take her up against a tree, his panting breaths so sexy that I ended up screaming his name.

I blushed, now, remembering, but the pants were the same, and his hands were strong and his lips were amazing. Of course, it wasn't all like the film. Unlike Oliver Mellers, Sean looked me right in the eye before bending his head to suck at the hollow of my throat, pinching the other nipple between thumb and index finger. Sean took his time, and I was a puddle of embarrassing noises and frantic writhing beneath him.

"Sean! Touch me, God, please touch me," I begged, wrapping my hand around his wrist and trying to pull it down, my other hand helpfully undoing my fly. He laughed against my collarbone, shirt half-open now, and pulled my hand aside, slipping his own into the warm, sweaty space between my legs and squeezing gently. "Bloody bollocking _hell_!"

Sean grinned now, confident and a little triumphant. His palm rubbed up and down, slowly, before his fingers finally wrapped around my cock and I bucked impatiently into his hand. "You're fucking beautiful, Billy," he murmured against my ear, pulling on it with his teeth before licking at the skin of my neck just underneath. "I was always so jealous, you know. You and Dom, or you and Elijah… Viggo."

"Not… fuck!... serious… just… kisses… Jesus, Sean, can't last…"

Sean smiled and bit my collarbone, then sucked hard, never taking his eyes off of mine, looking at me through slightly lowered lashes. "And would you like this to be serious?" he asked, teasingly, swiping his thumb over the head of my cock as he finally pulled it out of my pants and pushed my trousers further down.

"Sean… Oh God… not fair to ask a man that question with his… cunting Christ!... cock in your hand."

Sean just chuckled and kissed me, hard, pulling back only to whisper against my lips. "I don't play fair," he admitted, before sucking my tongue back into his mouth.

"Mmmm…hmmm…ghhh… yes!" I gasped when he finally let me free. "God, Sean, yes, you… so fucking gorgeous, so fucking… God… you want me, don't you?" I gasped, and Sean nodded solemnly, his hand not slowing down.

"Wanted you always, Billy," he answered seriously, his voice gravely as he licked a spot on my shoulder.

"Fucking… thought you were straight," I gasped out, just before my back snapped into an arch and I came all over his hand.

Sean grinned, his eyes sparkling, as I collapsed back against the couch, slumped down and breathing hard, and raised his hand to his mouth.

"Definitely not straight," he replied as his tongue swirled around one wet finger.

And that kiss, ladies and gentleman, number five, was not only the best, but the last. Or at least, the last person. As Dom likes to say now (though he never heard all the details, it's quite clear now that Sean and I are kissing on a regular basis,) Billy's Kiss-Slut-of-the-Fellowship days are over and now someone else will have to take up the torch. He suggested Viggo once, but after the glare from Sean _that_ suggestion produced, he keeps his mouth shut.

I asked Sean once about what he had said that first night. Dom, Elijah, Viggo… why those three? Viggo, okay, that was the kiss everyone knew about, whether Dom went around blabbing or not. But Dom and Elijah? Well apparently, dear Mr. Bean was almost entirely convinced that Dom, Elijah and I were in some sort of three-way shagathon situation after hearing about what happened in Australia and somehow missing the part about Dom being bloody _furious_ at me. Go figure. Besides, I don't think one bed could handle more than two hobbits. A hobbit and a Man, incidentally, fit just right.


End file.
